Page 6 of The Boys of Summer
“That, to be perfectly blunt, is utter nonsense. A promise is just that… regardless of when it was made. I understood at the time what I was committing myself to. I have never wavered from it. Even as countless young women have been paraded before me by my own matchmaking relatives or theirs, I was never tempted because, to my mind, I was already pledged. And I cannot help but think you had a similar feeling. If not, why are you still unwed?”
Defensive now, Clarissa pulled away from him and stood near the edge of the garden path. “I was never permitted a debut. My father deemed it a waste of time and a frivolous expense as he found me so utterly lacking in charm that, in his estimation, I had no chance of catching a husband. It was not because I was laboring under the delusion that a promise between children would be honored more than a decade on!”
*
Augustus realized thatif he pushed her too hard, she would simply bolt. Electing to take a different tack, he offered, “Clarissa—or Miss Milson, if you’d prefer to keep things more formal between us, perhaps expecting to simply march in and claim you as my bride was shortsighted on my part. But surely you cannot object to the notion of a courtship of sorts… a period where we renew our acquaintance and determine if we, as individuals separate from our titles or lack thereof, would suit one another.”
She was silent for a moment, flummoxed in the face of what could only be deemed a reasonable request. Finally, she spoke with a halting manner that told him how nervous she was. No, how frightened she was. “That is a luxury I cannot afford. My father has arranged a match for me… one that I would do anything to avoid. I have ten days. Ten days to find a suitable husband. And yes, you are imminently eligible, but not suitable for me. I can’t—the very idea of being a duchess and all that entails absolutely terrifies me.”
The admission that she was being forced to marry another infuriated him. It also wounded his pride. “What is it about being a duchess that you find so abhorrent?”
“I’m hopeless in society. I would be a laughingstock and, ultimately, so would you,” she admitted. “I’ve spent my entire life being an embarrassment to my father. My hope, in marrying and leaving his home, is to find some contentment, at least. Someplace where I can be myself and not be censured for it at every turn.”
“I would never do that to you. There is nothing wrong with you. You, Clarissa, are perfect as you are. As to your other arguments, I am not in society. I restrict myself solely to my country estate, Clarissa… I detest London and all the frivolous nonsense that fuels theton. If that is your only argument—”
“It isn’t,” she interrupted. “You… you are very intimidating. Too tall, too broad, too powerful. I dislike feeling so vulnerable.”
He did not take offense to that. How could he when he understood precisely why she felt that way? Her father had been less vicious than his. But just because the man preferred slapping his child to flogging her did not negate the fear and distrust he’d sewn in her. Instead, he smiled as gently as he could manage, and offered in a soft voice, “I can slouch, if you prefer. Would a hunchback be more to your liking?”
“Do not tease me. I cannot help it. You are bigger, you are stronger. I am at a disadvantage physically and, like you, the cruelty of others is not unknown to me,” she stated bitterly.
“It is not amusing and I am not teasing you, Clarissa. I know what you endured, at least in the vaguest sense, just as you know what I suffered at the hands of my own father. But I cannot change what I am physically, but I can promise you that while I am larger and stronger than you are, those attributes would never be used to harm you—only to protect you. You know me, Clarissa. You knew the boy I was and he is not so far removed from the man I am today. You can trust me. Give me a chance. That is all I ask.”
He felt the weight of her stare—the deliberation and uncertainty behind it were palpable. Then, after a moment, she gave a sharp nod. “Very well. It would be unfair of me to judge you so harshly by the behavior of others. I will consider it… your offer from all those years ago.”
“Thank you, Clarissa… why don’t you tell me about this match your father has proposed?” he suggested, stepping forward once more to offer her his arm. She accepted it with slightly less hesitation this time. It was a small victory but he would take what he could get.
“He is older than my father, significantly so. That is the best place to start, I suppose,” she replied, then shuddered. “He looks at me in a way that, quite simply, makes my skin crawl. There are liver spots all over his hands and face, he has very large, yellow teeth and whenever he visits our house, the maids hide from him because he’s—well, he doesn’t like to be told no.”
“Whatever happens between the two of us, you will not marry that man,” he said. “I will do whatever is necessary to prevent it.”
Her steps faltered and she turned to look up at him, hope flaring in her eyes. “Thank you for that, but my father has had the banns read. They have signed contracts and, financially, my father can’t afford to let me back out of the arrangement. If I do not marry someone else before my father comes for me, then all is lost.” As she turned to walk ahead, she promptly tripped on a stone and snagged her skirts on a thorny bush. As she struggled to free the garment, she let out a yelp when one of the thorns pricked her finger.
“Let me assist you,” the duke offered, and immediately crouched down to painstakingly free the entangled fabric. It was a complicated process. The breeze would catch the fabric the moment it was freed and whip it directly into briars once more. When he rose, the task finally completed, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to her bleeding finger.
It was her indrawn breath that drew his gaze to her face. She wasn’t looking at the minor injury, but at their joined hands. He became acutely aware of the difference in texture—of her soft and satiny skin beneath his callused palms. It prompted other more dangerous thoughts. If her hands were that soft, what would it be like to touch her elsewhere? It was dangerous territory.
Then she looked up, their gazes locked. Her lips parted and she darted out her tongue to wet them. It was an entirely innocent gesture, simply a reflection of her nerves. But it was still impossibly erotic. He longed to capture her lips, to feel that soft and velvety tongue tangling with his own. But she was not ready and pushing her would only make it more difficult to get what he wanted—all of her.
“Does it hurt very badly?” he asked, his voice slightly roughened with his heightened desire.
She shook her head, but didn’t speak. The awareness between them was something even an innocent would recognize. No doubt it frightened her. It frightened him to some degree because it had flared to life so quickly. That was unexpected. Still, he was reluctant to let the moment pass.
So he continued to stand there, holding her hand between his, the distance between them no more than a breath as silence settled between them, still and potent.
Chapter Four
From the windowof her bedchamber, Lady Helmsley watched the couple strolling in the garden. She had no illusions, of course, that they had any inkling what was going on. As pretty a girl as Clarissa was, no one would think her a suitable match for a duke. She would never be a lauded beauty and her fortune was modest at best. But that was the beauty of their current situation. Here in the isolation of a house party, none of that would matter. Clarissa would overcome her initial shyness with him after a day or two and then her true beauty would shine. And then she could be spared the terrible fate of being married off to that lecherous old sot, Squire Timble.
If there was one thing that Lady Helmsley was counting on, it was that proximity would beget temptation and temptation would beget opportunity. She just needed to make sure that there would be plenty of time for them to be alone together. In fact, she was feeling quite smug about it all until she watched Clarissa literally trip over nothing. And rather than use that opportunity to fall into the duke’s arms, the girl half-tipped into a bush. Of course, all was not lost. The duke did kneel to free her skirts from the branches.
“An ally,” Lady Helmsley mused. “I will need an ally as Clarissa clearly will not be one for herself.”
Leaving her chamber, she made for the terrace where she knew the viscountess was keeping watch like the responsible governess she’d been trained to be. But she didn’t need a responsible governess or a proper companion. She needed someone who would be devious enough to help her secure Clarissa’s future.
“Lady Helmsley,” the young viscountess greeted her warmly. “I’m so happy to see you taking advantage of the warm afternoon sunshine.”
“Well, that isn’t precisely why I am here, Sophie,” she confessed. “I’m hatching a bit of a scheme and I need your help.”
